


Drowning

by LeopardGal



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: Drowning Mention, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Longshot - Freeform, Not a crossover with Fire Emblem- clarification in the notes, PTSD, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Tragedy, Unrequited Love, endgame spoilers, implied attempted rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeopardGal/pseuds/LeopardGal
Summary: Cross and Lao did not speak often, but sometimes, her bloodstained hands washed away his black tears and warmed his frozen skin- sometimes, he was the cool salve on her burns, a refreshing embrace of the Earth when she was alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was not only my first fic for the XCX fandom- this was the first fic I ever posted online and the first multichapter fic that I ever finished. The formatting is a bit different here than on FFN, where it was originally posted- it has been changed from a multichapter story to a oneshot as it was originally meant to be, the flavor text of lyrics from the soundtrack have been removed, and I've condensed the notes at the begging and end of each chapter into this and some clarification at the end of some things that were implied but never outright said.  
> I do think my writing has improved quite a bit over the year since I wrote this, if for no other reason than I've learned to be more careful with canon- I original started writing this the day after I beat XCX for the first time, and had forgotten a lot of details about the story (including Mondo, Shingo, and Saiden's entire existence) and had confined myself to a one-chapter-per-day updating schedule, which led to some... quality issues when it came to catching typos and inconsistencies. I've since done a full revision on FFN and changed a few more things here to better fit with Cross' character now- I've reconnected quite a few features of her story, some of them minor, such as changing her ranged weapon during the main story from dual guns to an assault rifle, and some of them major, like Navarre's minor involvement with the story which will be explained in the end notes.

Lao and Cross rarely spoke. She was bad with words, he didn’t want to share. She was shy, he was unfriendly. She was afraid of hurting him, he was terrified of being hurt. He was being suffocated by a pool of  **cold black tar** , she was drowning in a  _ sea _ of  _ blood _ and  _ fire _ . 

Cross and Lao did not speak often, but sometimes, her  _ bloodstained _ hands  _ washed _ away his  **black tears** and  _ warmed _ his  **frozen** skin- sometimes, he was the  **cool salve** on her  _ burns _ , a  **refreshing embrace** of the  **EARTH** when she was alone. Lao and Cross did not speak often, but when they took each other’s hand,  **he** held  _ her _ above the  _ waves _ and  _ she _ kept  **him** from sinking into the  **unending darkness** . And it was not comfortable, or clean, but it was  enough , and intimate in a way only  **_they_ ** could understand. 

Cross and Lao did not speak often, he did not wish to tell her of his plans and she didn’t wish to pry- she was afraid if she picked away at his walls, his castle would come crashing down around her. She didn’t want to break him- she didn’t realize he was already broken. _She_ held **his** hand and **he** held _hers_ -

**_And Then He Let Go_ **

-and sank onto the  **abyss** where she could never follow. And suddenly,  _ the words she could never think of - would never speak _ \- are there,  screaming silently,  **forever unspoken** .

**Lao** and _Cross_ had rarely spoken, and **Cross** _knew she would regret that for the rest of her life._

* * *

 

The cavern was empty. Lin had called this place a chapel- she saw it as a tomb. Her heavy footsteps echoed loudly in the chamber- her metal boots were designed for kicking, not stealth.  The pathway was unscarred, the glass pristine. The yellow-green lake beneath her feet was still and sparkling- in another world, it might have been hopeful. She ascended the platform step by step, clanking loudly. She stood atop the table, and looked down. Her breath hitched in her throat- she was not alone. Ten, maybe fifteen feet in front of her stood a man- his black hair fell below his shoulders, uncombed and unwashed. His clothes fit snugly to his body, designed for easily piloting a Skell, but provided little protection from direct attacks. They were burned and ripped in places, but his skin seemed unharmed- pure. 

She blinked- this man… She thought she’d never see him again. Five seconds passed, then ten- he did not disappear, and she heard his breathing, his heart beating! He was real, and here!

“Lao!” She’d meant to yell it, but it was barely a choked whisper.

He jumped at the sudden sound, then turned. His icy eyes met her fiery ones, shocked and hard as grey steel-

Then softened, as a kind smile spread across his face. It was an expression of untainted joy, one he nearly never wore. 

She ran jumping off the platform, her heavy footsteps crashing on the glass, deep cracks spreading across the room like a twisted spiderweb, away from her, towards him!

He was smiling still, he didn’t realize- 

_ crack _

She tried to yell, her throat was dry-

_ Crack _

She had to get to him, save him-

**_Crash_ **

 

The glass under his feet crumbled, his eyes widening a split second before he disappeared under the surface. She reached the hole a second too late, but she prepared to jump in, was in midair-

A mottled grey hand burst from beneath the glass, leaving a geyser of shards and poison in its wake. It slammed into her chest, throwing her across the room. She landed painfully on her back- her right arm was useless, but her left seemed alright. She forced herself into a sitting position, watched the abomination lumber towards her.

Its skin was mottled with scales, fur, and rot. It was torn- stretched taunt over pulsating, bleeding muscle. It was a slimy mass of appendages ( _ Twisted, Broken _ ) and eyes ( _ Reddened, Puss-filled _ ) and mouths ( _ Drooling, Foul _ ) and it reeked of death-

It was right above her now, looking at her face with all its numerous eyes.

She couldn't move, could barely breathe for the pain in her chest. It leaned over her, it's - _ no, his _ \- face directly above her.

“I want you,” it moaned in a distorted growl. “I want your body.”

“N-No,” she whimpered quietly. Her tears burned her face.

Its horrid mouth opened, from what would have been his jaw to his throat to the center of his chest, and from it emerged a forked, slimy tongue. 

It ran over her face, gently wiping away her tears, caressing her arm, slowly sliding down her legs, nearing her thighs-

“Stop!” She screamed. She slapped away the cold tongue, wiped away the saliva it had left on her cheek.

“Why?” It asked. It sounded… hurt.

“I’m lonely. I feel like I’m all alone in the world, I crave a woman’s touch.  I have desires, same as you. I need to be saved.” It smiled cruelly. “You told yourself all those things and more, when you were thinking about how much you wanted to-”

“That’s not-!”

“True? You know it is. Ah- that was another of your little fantasies, wasn’t it? Us finishing each other’s sentences.” It placed its hand next to her body, leaned down, its face right next to her ear. She could feel its breath on her face. “You wanted my body, wanted me to touch you, wanted me to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You’re beautiful. You’re the woman of my dreams.  _ I love you. _ ” By the last three words, his voice was kind, affectionate.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He pressed his hand across her chest, “And this,” His tongue slid own her bare stomach, massaging her abdomen, inching lower, “And this!”

The air was crushed out of her lungs, there was no escape. But her left arm was still free, and her gun was in reach. She grabbed it, pressed the muzzle to his forehead. Wild orange eyes stared into hers wordlessly, their meaning incomprehensible.

It spoke, but its  _ (cruel) _ voice did not match his  _ (sad) _ eyes- “You wanted this, even though you knew  _ I never wanted-” _

She pulled the trigger, the cold red blood poured out its wound, down her arm onto her face. It burned her eyes, filled her nose, ran into her mouth- the cold, metallic taste almost sweet. It poured down her throat, filled her and cooled her burning breast-

* * *

 

Cross hit the floor. Her blanket was tangled in her legs, and her face was wet- but rather than salt, she could still taste blood. She stumbled into the kitchen and emptied the remains of her dinner into the sink- she’d have to apologize to Lin later, but at least it wasn’t on the carpet this time. 

The taste of blood was nothing new- she’d awoken with the metallic tang on her tongue more often than not in the four months since she'd woken up on Mira. She pushed herself from the counter, and made her way into the bathroom. The container of red makeup was on the edge of the sink, and with practiced precision, she ran her fingers down her face, leaving a messy red X on her skin.

The makeup was damp and sticky;

_ (The fire nipped at her heels, her hair. She turned, wanted one last look, as his shoulder erupted in an explosion of gore, it splashed on her face, down her cheeks, into her mouth, the metallic taste almost sweet-) _

So many people had told how pretty she would be without it, how it ruined her good looks. She didn’t feel pretty- she felt bloodstained. She felt ruined.

In the end, his blood had been blue, and had smelled of plasma- but her dreams were always red and stank of iron;

_ (She ran her rough fingers down the woman’s sweaty bare stomach, her laugh magical. “Remember when we did this every night?” _

_ “Why don’t we do this every night?” A sobbing scream came over the speaker. “Oh.”) _

Cross shook her head.  _ Her _ dreams were always red and stank of iron.  _ Those _ dreams that smelled of blue flowers and sex- those were stolen.

Cross exited the bathroom, shrugged on her discarded hoodie, and grabbed her muddy boots from next to the doorway on her way out of the barracks. She wasn’t making Fashion Statement of the Year, but her silk nightgown reached below her knees, which was farther than her stabilizers reached, so she felt passable.

Even at two in the morning, the Administrative District was humming with noise- tired BLADEs returning home, late-night shopkeepers selling caffeinated drinks alongside their normal wares, the pounding of engineers and Skells below the plate. The bright lights of Armory Ally were blinding, the shadows they cast elongated and deep. She headed towards the elevator to the Residential District, keeping to the darkness. It had been a sleepless night like this...;

_ (“Reeed…” Lin moaned.  _

_ She opened one eye. “Again?” A disgruntled grunt was her response. “Sorry.” Elma hadn’t known Red yelled in her sleep when she’d assigned her to Lin’s room in the barracks. Red had offered to sleep on the couch many times, but either Lin was too kind to accept or she loved getting woken up in the middle of the night. Judging by the fact a sleeping Lin kicked her out of the room at least twice a week, then lectured her about leaving the room in the morning (“You weren’t bothering me! Honest!”), Red guessed it was the first.  _

_ Red pulled a tattered robe over her t-shirt and resigned herself to a night on the couch, but stopped short as she ran her hand through her hair. It was damp with sweat… maybe a shower would help her sleep. She doubled back past the living room and headed towards the bathroom. The knob was cool under her hand- but it wouldn’t turn. Red grunted- she wanted a shower, dammit!- and slammed her shoulder into the door. It swung open, revealing a steamy room. _

_ A steamy  _ **_occupied_ ** _ room. _

_ A man was in the shower, humming a soothing melody. The water poured down his naked body, and her eyes followed it down from his head to his rear. Damn, that was a great ass. He groped behind himself for his bar of soap, but came up short, so he turned- _

_ “GAH! W-what are you doing!?!” _

_ Red felt her cheeks match her nickname. She knew she should leave- she had amnesia, she wasn’t stupid- but… Apparently, she’d forgotten what men looked like… down there. At least, that was probably a Guy Thing? Maybe some girls looked like that too? Or maybe- _

_ “GET OUT!!!” _

_ His shout was enough to snap her out of her stupor, so she choked out a “Sorry!” and slammed the door. She ran down the hall to the common room, and sank onto the couch. She was an  _ **_Idiot._ ** _ She’d forced open a locked bathroom door- Why? What did she expect? _

_ “Oh.” _

_ Her head shot up. He was standing at the edge of the room, flushed red. He had a towel around his waist, thankfully. “I… wasn't expecting to run into you here.” _

_ “Um.” There was an uncomfortable pause. She had no idea what to say. _

_ “You’re… Red, right?” _

_ “Yeah. And you’re…” She thought back. “Lao? We went on a mission together last week.” _

_ “Yeah.” Another pause, this one less awkward. “Unusual name.” _

_ “Is it? I wouldn’t know.” _

_ His brow furrowed for a moment, then; “That’s right, you lost your memory. Yeah, it sounds more like a nickname.” _

_ “Well, it’s not really my name…” _

_ “What? But you were talking like it was.” _

_ “I, uh… forgot.” _

_ “You… forgot that your nickname wasn’t your real name?” _

_ “I have a pretty bad memory, if you recall? And what were you doing in my bathroom, by the way?” _

_ “...That was your bathroom? Not team Belisarda’s?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Oh.” Lao turned an even brighter shade of pink. He let out a small huff of laughter, and she was smiling- the tension was gone from the room. He walked towards the kitchen. “Coffee?” _

_ “Coffee? But it’s…”She looked at the clock. “It’s 2:48 in the morning.” _

_ “It’s morning.” _

_ Well, she wasn’t likely getting back to sleep tonight anyway. “Sure. Sugar, no cream.” _

_ “Got it.” He came back minutes later with two steaming cups of dark liquid and sat across from her. _

_ “You take it the same?” _

_ “No, mine’s black.” _

_ “But it’s so bitter!” _

_ “The bitterness helps keep me awake.” He smiled sadly. “In more ways than one.”) _

Cross sighed at the memory. She was nearly at the elevator, but she paused. There had been tiny moments like that, little out of place comments, scattered throughout all of their conversations. They were meaningless at the time - in retrospect, they felt like icicles in her heart. Maybe that was why he’d opened up around her- he could tell the truth and keep his secrets at the same time.  _ Or maybe he was trying to clue her in and she was too stupid to notice, _ a traitorous voice added. Cross grit her teeth and walked onto the elevator. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lao hated the rain, she remembered;

_ (“This damn weather! Somebody fix this!” Red and Lao were alone, miles into Noctilum, soaked to the bone, filthy, and in worse moods by the minute. He looked over his shoulder. “What? Not even a laugh?” _

_ She stared at him blankly. “That was a joke?” _

_ “No. It wasn’t,” he growled. “Why? Why does it have to rain?” _

_ “We are in a rainforest,” she answered. He didn’t laugh either. It would have been bad enough if the trip had started pleasantly, but these were the first words they’d said to each other since they'd left NLA.  _

_ Red had been avoiding him, to tell the truth. She’d found out a few days ago that his wife and daughter had died back on Earth, and… how did she respond to that? She already felt alienated from the rest of humanity for not remembering Earth, but this? She’d lost people dear to her too, probably. The man whose blood she tasted every morning was one of them she was sure, but the twinge she felt thinking about him couldn’t possibly be as bad as losing someone you actually, y’know, remembered. Not to mention she’d just found out she wasn’t actually in a human body recently, and she honestly wasn’t sure how she felt about that. _

_ Plan “If I don’t talk to him, not knowing what to say won’t be a problem” had been going smoothly too, until Doug had pointed out; _We need to get more probes in that area before it's safe for you Curators- actually, I think Lao's heading off that way on his next mission too! Hey, why don't you two go together!"_ And before she could say no, he’d already texted Lao and that was the end of things. _

_ The rest of the trip up was uneventful- twenty minutes later the rain let up, and they arrived at the probe site a few hours later. Red had collected a backpack full of fruits and White Whale parts in remarkably good condition- even a functioning data unit, but she doubted a Crew Manifest would be very useful. It was on the way back that shit hit the fan. _

_ Twelve miles from the nearest Base Camp, the drizzle turned into Tropical Thunderstorm Hell, complete with gale force winds. Two miles later, Red wandered into a scirpio nest and nearly got her leg torn off- Lao pulled her out of danger, but got bitten in the process. He insisted it was barely a scratch- and it really was- so they continued on. _

_ The rain was so heavy Red couldn’t see far ahead of her, so she’d elected to hold on to Lao’s arm so they didn’t get separated. Somewhere along the way, she’d taken the lead, but she barely noticed. _

_ Until he collapsed. _

_ The sudden yank on her arm nearly knocked her over. She grabbed his shoulder and bent down. “Are you okay?” _

_ “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, just got dizzy for a sec.” _

_ “You don’t look okay. Are you sure?” _

_ “Don’t worry Charmaine, just give me a second...” _

_ Definitely  _ **_not_ ** _ okay, then. “Can you get up?” _

_ “Do… I have to? Give me five more minutes, I’ll still get to work… on time…”  _

_ And then he passed out. _

_ Red groaned. She lifted him bridal-style, and retreated to the cave they’d passed through a few minutes earlier- though it was less of a cave than an arch, and not a particularly large one. She sat him against the wall and checked his arm. It was seeping bioplasma, and was a dark, greenish-grey color. She knew next to nothing about Mimeosome first aid, but Lin had said losing bioplasma was a Bad Thing when she’d gotten her arm ripped off, so Red tore off Lao’s sleeve and wrapped it around the wound. _

_ “Does it have to be so tight?” He hissed. _

_ She hadn’t realized he’d woken up. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know? Does Bioplasma clot like blood?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Then probably yes.” _

_ He looked down at his arm, then rubbed his fingers together. “My hand is wet,” he said matter-of-factly. _

_ “Your whole body is wet.” He scowled at that, like someone had told him to move his Skell at three in the morning. “I’m wet too,” she added. _

_ “That’s good,” he said. _

_ “You like that I’m suffering with you?” She teased. _

_ “I like making people suffer the same way I do. It’s a character flaw,” he added proudly. _

_ “Well, at least you embrace your flaws,” she laughed. He smiled at that- looked deep into her eyes and genuinely, truly  _ **_smiled._ ** _ The expression was so pure- no trace of the sadness or bitterness that always haunted his tiny smiles, made them closer to a smirk. Her throat clenched and her face flushed- what she felt in that moment was something she had never experienced in her short month of life. She had no name for it. _

_ His face soured seconds later. “What are you?” He asked seriously. _

_ “Huh?” _

_ “These bodies- they aren’t any more than puppets. They aren’t alive. We aren’t alive. The only thing that makes us human is our memory of being human. So… what are you?” _

_ Red balled her fists. She wasn’t the only one thinking it, then. _

_ “Are you human? Or… are you a robot without a soul?” _

_ Her eyes were burning. “Is that what you think of me?” _

_ His eyes were filled with pity, but he said nothing. _

_ “How do you feel about me, really…? Answer me!” _

_ A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I love you,” he said. _

_ For a second- several seconds- Red forgot to breathe. “W-what?” _

_ “I love you, Charmaine.” _

_ And in an instant, she was  _ **_burning_ ** _. Of course he was talking to his wife. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, he wasn’t even looking at her. Her embarrassment felt like it was choking her, peeling away her skin, pulling at her hair. This wasn’t her moment. She was an intruder in a private moment between husband and wife, a peeping tom. _

_ And then he kissed her. _

_ It was gentle and soft, like he was afraid he would break her if he pressed too hard. She knew she should pull away, that this was  _ **_Wrong_ ** _ … but it took a few seconds to work up the courage. _

_ She laid her hands on his face, and pushed him away. He grabbed her wrist so hard it hurt. “Why?” _

_ “Because I’m not her.” _

_ “I don’t understand! Why!?” His voice broke. “Why did you leave me?” _

_ “Calm down. I’m right here, Lao. I’m not leaving your side.” _

_ “You’re… here?” _

_ “I’m right beside you.” It was cruel, she knew, and wrong. But if he got more upset, it could worsen his wounds, she told herself. And she never really lied, just told him she was there. Not correcting someone wasn’t the same as lying, was it? _

_ He pulled her against his chest, rested his head on hers. “I feel like I’m drowning.” _

_ “Me too, Lao. I hope it lets up soon.” _

_ “Not the rain. I… I feel like I fell into a pit of tar. And the more I struggle, the farther from the edge I slip. And I can’t get out, but I can see the sun going down. And It’s getting cold, and I’m getting cold. And it’s on my skin, up my nose, in my mouth. I can taste it, every day, I can taste it. And then it’s running down my throat, it’s in my lungs, and I can’t breathe, I just keep spitting up tar, no matter how much I cough up it’s pouring in my eyes and ears and I’m drowning…! _

_ “And then, I sink below the surface. And I’m not alive, because I can’t breathe, but I’m not dead either, because I can’t rot, can't dissolve and become a tree or a flower or something and I’ll never  _ **_really_ ** _ live again! I’m… frozen. I’m cold, and wet, and stuck. And the sun doesn't rise under the ground.” _

_ She was crying, and the burning was gone. She felt cold now, and wet. She made a promise to herself, in that moment.  _ **_She’d make sure he saw the sunrise._ ** _ She wanted him to be happy, she wanted him to smile, and she knew it was selfish, but she wanted him to look at  _ **_her_ ** _ and kiss  _ **_her_ ** _. And if she had to light herself on fire and dive into a pit of tar to do it- had to burn up to see his face light up one last time before she turned to ash- then she’d do it.) _

Cross stood under a streetlight, the damp air biting at her bare legs. Promises were easy to make. And when you kept them to yourself, nobody even knew when you broke them. Easy. 

And maybe she’d let him drown, but in the end, he’d dissolved into light. That counted, she said. But she wasn’t stupid enough to believe it.

Her bare feet tapped quietly on the pavement, a stark contrast to her nightmare. The data unit she’d recovered from Noctilum had turned out to be useful- alongside the crew’s names were pictures, and with Lin’s help, they could finally match up her face to a name: Cross.

“D#***!%a=ERROR CRoss” actually, and at first Lin had thought it was the computer shortening “cross-reference”, but Red knew better. It was the first “human” thing that had felt familiar… right. It was her link to Earth. She was Cross, and she was Human.

She felt the dew struck grass between her toes. It was cold and alive- she liked the feeling. Without realizing it, she closed her eyes and retreated back into her mind, unconsciously reached out for the thunderhead in her mind… but there was nothing there. She snapped her eyes open. Of course there was nothing, there hadn’t been anything for almost a month. She thought she’d trained herself to stop doing that- every time she looked for him, she felt lonelier when she found nothing (But never as lonely as that first night, the first time it was quiet and she was alone, truly alone, for the first time in her three months of life. She’d even thought he could come back then, but the silence terrified her, and she'd searched her consciousness for comfort for so long she’d deactivated her mim on accident, and when she woke up she heard the news, and he was Really Gone.)

She took a shuddering breath. How had she not noticed, those first few weeks? She hadn’t even been the one to realize it, Lin was;

_ (“Where’s Lao?” Elma asked. _

_ “At the diner,” Cross responded automatically. Lin was standing behind Elma, giggling. _

_ “He told you he was going to the diner?” Elma prodded. _

_ “No.” Cross flicked the whetstone across her blade carefully. _

_ “Then how do you know he’s there?” Cross frowned. How did she know? _

_ “Because she ALWAYS knows. She’s got, like… a Lao-dar!” _

_ “Lin, there is no such thing as a... Lao-dar.” _

_ “Oh yeah? Then how come she always knows where he is?” _

_ “She dosen’t. He's not even at the diner right now, I’ll bet.” _

_ “I’m not lying,” Cross protested. “Call Doug, they’re together!” _

_ Elma smirked, and dialed Doug. _

_ “Hello?” _

_ “Doug? Where are you?” _

_ “At the diner with Lao. Why, something up? _

_ “Not really, but- you told Cross you two were going to the diner, right?” _

_ “Uh, no. Were we supposed to meet up or something?” _

_ Elma frowned. “No, but you told someone, right?” _

_ “Not really, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. We haven’t been here long, but do you need us to come in?” _

_ “If you didn’t tell anyone, and you haven’t been there long, then how the hell does Cross know you’re there?” _

_ “Hold up, Elma. Does she know  _ **_We’re_ ** _ here or  _ **_Lao’s_ ** _ here?” _

_ “Lao!” Lin piped in. _

_ “Holy shit! You hear that, bro? Your Stalker Sense goes both ways! How cool is that!?” _

_ “Shut up, Doug,” said Cross and Lao simultaneously. Cross followed it up with a startled grunt. _

_ “Elma, you know what this sounds like?” Lin whispered. “Soulmates!” She mouthed silently. _

_ “It sounds like a mim glitch to me. Lao, meet Cross and I at the Maintenance Center in twenty?” _

_ “Sure.” He sounded startled. _

_ Elma was right, of course. “crossed wires,” they called it. Mim consciousnesses were broadcast on a frequency unique to their biological makeup- sometimes, close blood relatives ended up overlapping frequencies, and could in a sense, read each other’s minds. _

_ “But we aren’t related!” They corrected (Simultaneously, much to Lao’s chagrin.) _

_ “You must be.” Said the doctor, who then proceeded to check their medical backgrounds: _

_ “Lao Huang- Chinese- Black hair-Gray eyes- 5’3”-31 years of age” _

_ “D#***!%a=ERROR CRoss- Cherokee-Black hair-Gray eyes- 5’10”- 22 years of age” _

_ Throw up his hands, and declare “I have no idea why! Maybe it’s because you have the same eye color- gray is a recessive gene.” _

_ “Gray”? Cross wondered. “But, my eyes are orange!” _

_ Lao smirked. “That’s not a human eye color. You didn’t even know what color your eyes were?” _

_ “I didn't know I was seven inches taller than you, either.” Lao’s face fell as she felt her smirk replace his. _

_ “That can’t be… Seven? Really?” He looked down at her. “How tall is your mim?” _

_ “Five-foot one. You… look more than two inches taller than me.” Before she could ask, the answer came to her; “Your mim is five-foot seven!” _

_ He felt embarrassed, and she felt embarrassed for outing him- or maybe she just felt his embarrassment. The whole “sharing thoughts” thing was new to both of them- it seemed knowing it was there made the connection stronger. _

_ Cross overheard an echo of a thought; “Why does she get to be taller than me?” She laughed while his scowl deepened. _

_ “Is there any way to stop… this?” Lao asked. _

_ “Not completely, but I believe Brainjack training helped the Lara brothers block each other out of receiving random thoughts, like I’m assuming you two just did.” _

_ “Irina,” They agreed. No more words were needed.) _

A cold, wet nose on her hand snapped Cross back to reality. The Labrador snuffled happily as she rubbed his ears. This little guy had bothered Lao back when he lived in NLA- Cross had invited him into the barracks, and Lao had fed him table scraps  _ one time _ \- which, of course, forever turned him into “Food Man.” 

“I miss him too,” Cross said. This feeling- sadness, longing, regret- it hurt, but it was familiar. When she felt like this, it was like he was still there- maybe a world away, but connected to her. And in that sense, she didn’t miss him- Lao missed his family, and she was with him.

No, she decided. When she felt this way, this was the only time she wasn’t lonely.

_ (“Don’t you feel anything!?” Lin screamed. She had tears in her eyes, on her flushed cheeks. _

_ “No.” _

_ “He was your friend too! How could you say that?” _

_ “I… just don’t feel anything.” Cross closed her eyes. “It’s like he never existed.” _

_ “But he did exist!” Lin slammed Cross against the wall. “Even if you don’t care, you could have shown up for Doug and me! You could have done it for him, you… monster!” _

_ “That’s enough, Lin!” Elma shouted. Lin snapped her head around- Elma almost never raised her voice. Elma placed her hand on Lin’s shoulder, and Lin dropped her arm. Cross took that as her cue to leave, but before she left the barracks, she heard; _

_ “How can she not…” _

_ “Because funerals are to say good-bye, Lin, and she isn’t ready for that.”) _

Cross felt the wind pick up, blowing her hair into her eyes. Her skin prickled, and she shivered. The memory had made her blush- with anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell. The night air felt good. 

She brushed her hair out of her face, and her hand came away wet. She blinked, but saw the dark spots on her jacket- it had started to rain, and she hadn’t even noticed. She felt a pang in her chest- Lin had cried for Lao many times- more than she could count. She’d apologized for being  “Such a crybaby” one time, and L had told her that he’d read a human saying; “The more tears we shed, the more blessings they receive in the hereafter.” It had made Lin feel better, but…

Cross hadn’t cried for him. Not once. No matter how painful her feelings were, it just reminded her of him, and she ended up smiling. Lin had said that not many people had shown up for the funeral, but “There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.” 

Maybe he’d been right, that time. Maybe she didn't have a soul.

The park was deserted, and even the dog had decided that staying dry was preferable to being petted. She was alone. She leaned back, and sat on the cool, damp ground. The mud seeped between her toes and soaked through her skirt. She placed her hands on her knees and rubbed circles on her skin with her thumbs. Lao had had an old knee injury back on Earth, and the habit of massaging his legs was one he’d never dropped. (Charmaine had massaged his legs too, on bad days, but he’d never told her that part. That part had come unbidden, and it was more than she was supposed to know.)

_ (She ran her hands over her skin, oil cold on her skin. The ache in her leg was ebbing, being replaced by a throbbing elsewhere. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, tickling her bare thigh-) _

Cross whimpered. Why couldn't she just forget? Charmaine had died years before Cross’ first memory, but by heart she knew her round face, the smell of her skin, the way her tongue ran over her teeth, the softness of her stomach,  _ the taste- _

**No!** To remember that- it was an insult. Charmaine’s ghost haunted her, though not in same way she’d haunted Lao. To think she’d once embraced that violation;

_ (“If you want to keep each other out, first you have to let each other in.” Neither of them had been happy about that.  _

_ “I’m not inviting someone to poke around in my head,” said Lao. Cross nodded in support- her promise was a secret, among other things. _

_ “Fine then, you can enjoy hearing every random thought that goes though Cross’s head until we find the lifehold. She’ll get to hear yours too, so have fun having no secrets… ever.” _

_ Lao felt alarmed at that, and Irina smiled. “How am I supposed to keep secrets if I let her into my head?” _

_ “You don’t have to let her see everything. Look, there’s layers to your mind- the surface thoughts; “I want ice cream, I need a bath,” the consciousness, which is what we use to talk, and the subconscious; our past memories, our deepest desires, etc. You can think of these as rooms. The trick is to shove the things you don’t want to share into a box, and put the box in your “subconscious room.”  _

_ “Your “surface room” is connected to hers right now- like an open archway. You can’t move the rooms apart, but you can build a door. The trick is, one of you has lumber in your “consciousness room,” and the other has the tools, but they’re too heavy to move on your own. So you let each other in your “consciousness room,” and then you can block each other out. Understand?” _

_ “I think so,” said Cross. Lao was less confidant, but nodded anyway. Cross closed her eyes, and visualized the rooms… but nothing happened. Cross felt a wave of frustration. _

_ “It’s not working.” _

_ Irina sighed. “Okay, let’s try this. Take each other’s hand.” _

_ “What?” Asked Lao. _

_ Irina sighed. “Just do it.” _

_ “Why?” How could that possibly help?” _

_ “Cross?” Irina growled. _

_ Cross nervously reached out and took his hand. She felt him tense. _

_ “Think about how that feels. You don’t have to say anything, just think about it.” _

_ Big. Heavy. The skin on the back of his hand was smooth. He moved his hand into a more comfortable position- less heavy now. The muscles were taut- the metal bones were prominent. His fingertips weren’t smooth- they were rough, calloused.  _

_ “Now, how do they feel about your hand?” _

_ It was small, fragile- but her fingers were long. Her skin was very warm, a little slick. The warmth was nice. The way she was rubbing his knuckles with her thumb felt nice, too. _

_ “Now try visualizing the rooms again.” _

_ Cross opened her eyes. The room was plain- the beige wallpaper was peeling, leaving tiny freckles of faded, pastel paint. The off-white ceiling had water stains in the corners, the carpet was crushed nearly flat. It smelled of food- grease and alcohol and smoked meat and pepper. On one wall was a dented steel door, on the opposite side a wooden archway. Cross walked to the hole and looked through; _

_ Deep maroon wallpaper and carved wooden paneling covered the walls. It was deep and rich, and the light fixtures looked like candles. The carpet was a swirls of off-white and dark grey, and felt like walking on a pillow. The only part of the room that didn’t match was the ceiling- it was covered in paper and thumbtacks, colorful splashes and lines that made no sense. It smelled of what was almost flowers, but there was a harshness- a chemical edge that was unpleasant. _

_ “Air freshener.” _

_ Cross jumped. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone.  _

_ Lao was looking at the ceiling wistfully. “You’ve never smelled it before, have you? Back on Earth, people made their houses smell like this so they couldn’t smell the outside. What I’d give to smell the Earth one more time…” _

_ “Where are we?” _

_ “Charmaine’s- no, my bedroom.” He sighed. “Her family wasn't wealthy by Earth standards, but she had more money when I married her than I made in my entire life. I don’t think I ever got used to this room- I was always afraid of staining the carpet.” He opened his eyes. “Where’s yours?” _

_ “I don’t know.” She felt embarrassed. “It looks dirty.” _

_ “It looks lived in.” He stood at the entrance. “It smells like bacon. I like it.” _

_ “That’s good enough.” _

_ Cross opened her eyes. She was in front of the water purification plant. She was holding Lao’s hand. Irina was smiling. “Tonight, practice getting into that room without my help. Maybe try going into your second room if you feel up to it, but don’t go in each other’s yet. What you just did was the same thing you’ve been doing on accident- going into someone else’s consciousness is a whole other ball game.” _

_ Lao nodded. “See you tomorrow, then.” _

_ Cross had taken the rest of the day off, though there wasn’t much left. She ate dinner and went to bed early, though she didn’t intend to sleep. Getting back into that room was easy. Getting into the next room wasn’t. _

_ The metal door was locked, or jammed, or maybe it had a mind of its own and just refused to open. After an hour of beating and slamming and looking for a key, she finally broke. “Why? Why can’t I get into my own mind?” _

_ “Because I’m afraid of what I’ll find, so my subconscious is keeping me out,” she answered. She blinked. She… wasn’t expecting that to work. _

_ Cross swallowed, visualised her fear as a hard, red ball, and slipped it into her pocket. If she threw it away, it’d bounce back and hit her- but as long as she wasn’t holding onto it, it couldn’t stop her. She opened the door. _

_ The first thing she noticed was the heat- her skin felt like it would melt off just from standing there. The ceiling was burning, but the walls were made of steel. They glowed red hot, the only light in the room. Fire flickered on the floor. At first she thought it was a mirror, but it was liquid, slick under her feet. It looked red, but the whole room looked red too. She walked in farther, then turned around. Next to the door, part of the wall had crumbled, letting in light from the other room. In the white light, there was a table covered in pictures. She looked over them- Lin cooking, Tatsu dancing, Elma showing her how to properly hold a gun… Lao smiling. She picked up that one. It was her promise that she’d made that night in Noctilum.  _

_ On the farthest wall was another door, glowing hotter than any other place in the room. There was a slot in the door, and Cross pushed the picture frame through. Her hands came away steaming, but she was satisfied.  _

_ She looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom and smiled. She hoped she’d have Good Dreams tonight. Almost every night since she’d awoken, she’d had the same dream; _

_ (Fire nipped at her heels, her hair. She turned, wanted one last look, as his shoulder erupted in an explosion of gore, it splashed on her face, down her cheeks, into her mouth, the metallic taste almost sweet-) _

_ It had haunted her. She hated it, hated how she woke up covered in sweat every night, hated how, despite the ever-present terror, the taste of human blood… she almost enjoyed it. _

_ She’d had that dream every night, until three weeks ago. It was a new dream that night, of a pale-skinned woman with dark red hair, of writhing bodies and wandering hands, and the smell of sex, and of bright blue flowers. _

_ The red dreams had come back the next night, but days later the woman returned to her, ran her fingers through her hair, whispered words in in her ear both loving and filthy, made her body feel things she’d never known. She’d seen the woman several times since then, and though she still woke up sweaty, the morning sun seemed a little brighter on those days. _

_ Cross got her wish. Her dream was as good as she’d hoped, though different than before. The woman was there, but a few minutes in, a familiar face had joined in. His beard was rough in her skin, his hands strong and forceful, so unlike the woman’s. The woman’s touches were teasing, made her crave more- his filled her with pleasure, made her feel like she would explode. She felt clumsy and inexperienced, but he was patient, gently walking her through it, showing her where and how to touch.  _

_ This feeling of being in control was new to him- the pale woman was always in charge, when they made love. He was her willing slave- he loved serving her. But this was new and exciting, made him feel strong and confidant. He felt needed, and he liked it, and Cross liked that. _

_ Cross had enjoyed her dream, but she didn’t know how she was going to meet Lao’s eyes the next day. She felt beyond embarrassed- she hoped Lao wasn’t picking up on it. _

_ She had hours to go before her meeting with Irina, and Elma had given her the day off, so she had to find something to do.  _

_ Breakfast was wonderful, and Nagi had decided to join them today. Lin was distracted- she was sketching out a Skell on her napkin. That was when Cross got her idea; _

_ “Nagi? You were a police officer, right?” _

_ He smiled- Cross was always informal around him. The dirty look Elma shot at her didn’t go unnoticed. “A lifetime ago.” _

_ “Do you know if any sketch artists are here in NLA?” _

_ “Now that’s an odd question. Hmm… Yes, I believe that I know of one. Mind telling me why you’re looking for a sketch artist?” _

_ Cross pushed her eggs around on her plate. “I keep seeing a woman in my dreams. I was hoping if I could see her face when I’m awake, it might jog my memory.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She looked up. _

_ Nagi’s face was inscrutable. His mouth was pressed in a firm line. “You want your memory back?” _

_ “Why wouldn’t I?” “Because her only memory was of fire and blood and that didn’t imply a very happy human life” was the answer, but Nagi didn’t know that. _

_ “Some people forget things when they’re too unbearable to remember. Aren’t you ever afraid that’s why you lost your memory?” _

_ Cross nearly choked- she hadn’t realized he was that perceptive. _

_ “I don’t think anyone’s entire life could be too bad to remember, Secretary,” said Lin. _

_ Nagi rubbed his scar and sighed. “I’ll give you his address. He’s a Mediator now, usually hangs around the Commercial District. I’m afraid I have to leave now, but the food was wonderful, Lin.” _

_ “Thanks!” chirped Lin. She was still looking at her napkin. _

_ After he’d left, Cross prepared to leave, but stopped. “Elma?” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Do you think… Um…” _

_ Elma sighed. “He’s alright, Cross.” _

_ “Are you sure? I’ve never seen him look so… tired.” _

_ “Not everyone can forget their mistakes, Cross. He’s had to make some tough calls in his life.” _

_ That sounded almost like- “Elma, did he know me back on Earth?” Elma was silent. “Did  _ **_you_ ** _ know me?” _

_ “The day in starfall basin was the first time we’d met.” _

_ “You didn't answer my first question.” _

_ “Don’t you have someone to meet up with?” _

_ “Don’t keep secrets from me, Elma!” _

_ Elma looked like she’d been slapped. “It’s not my secret to tell.” _

_ “It’s  _ **_My_ ** _ past, Elma-  _ **_My entire life_ ** _!” _

_ “We are a culmination of our experiences, Cross. Your life started on that night in Starfall Basin, and you, as a person, are who you are because of your experiences these past two months. If you remember who you used to be, you won’t be the same.” _

_ “Right. Then I’ll be  _ **_Me_ ** _ and not... not just a shadow!” _

_ Elma walked forward, took her hands. “You  _ **_are_ ** _ you, Cross. You may not be who you used to be, but who you are now is no less real- no less valid.” Elma hugged her. “I like you now, Cross. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you.” _

_ Cross’ eyes were burning. She returned the embrace, but added; “I’m still mad at you.” _

_ “I’ll live,” Elma laughed. “But you do need to get out of here, it’s almost noon.” _

_ The meeting with the sketch artist went well. For the price of a grenade pizza, he drew the woman’s face. It didn’t bring back any memories, but looking at her made Cross feel calm… and a little sad. Picture in hand, she left to meet Irina. _

_ The session could have gone better. Lao had gotten into his second Room last night, same as her. They slipped into each other’s first room without having to physically touch, and Lao walked in on her consciousness with no difficulty. _

_ The feeling of him standing there was odd- the feeling when he looked through her photos was bizarre. Flashes of memories jumped out at her, clear as the day they’d happened, then left just as quickly. The flavor of pizza with ovis meat, the rushing sensation of falling off a cliff, the smell of Rust Lake, the sound of her name on her lips for the first time, looking out at Primordia as the sun rose on that first day.  _

_ “I didn't realize you got so… easily excited. You always seem serious.” _

_ “I’m just quiet.” _

_ “I see that now.” _

_ When she tried to enter his consciousness, he nearly knocked her out. A rush of emotion- a feeling of violation- surged at her when she touched the door. It felt like getting punched in the stomach. She opened her eyes, and she was on the ground outside the plant. Lao offered her his hand.  _

_ “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” His voice sounded genuine, but Cross felt a twinge of something alongside his guilt… a sense of success. He realized this seconds later, and the guilt redoubled. Well, he was an ass, but at least he felt bad about it. _

_ Agreement- more guilt. _

_ Realization- horror, embarrassment- he wasn’t supposed to hear that! _

_ Embarrassment, remorse- he hadn’t meant to overhear. She was right though, he was an ass. He was scum, he didn’t deserve to live. He didn’t want to live. Sorrow, loneliness… _

_ Worry- Are you okay? _

_ Embarrassment- she wasn’t meant to hear that. She didn't deserve those negative thoughts in her head, he was just a burden, he was dragging her down, guilt, guilt, guilt… _

_ She was making him sad, she was invading his privacy, she didn’t know how to stop, guilt, guilt, guilt... _

_ “What’s going on over there?” Cross jerked her head towards Irina. “You both look like you’re gonna cry.” Her face softened. “Need a minute?” _

_ “Yeah.” Cross could still feel negativity coming off Lao in waves. She wanted to distract him, but how? _

_ “What’s that?” He asked. _

_ “Huh?”  _

_ “You said you wanted to distract me.” _

_ He heard that? Embarrassment- _

**_Guilt-_ **

_ Cross kicked him in the shin. “Don’t you dare start that again!” _

_ Shock- then he chuckled. “Okay. That hurt, though.” _

_ “Not half as painful as your internal monologue!” _

_ Guilt- _

_ Cross narrowed her eyes threateningly. _

_ He smiled a little- that was pretty cute. _

_ “Cute!?” She felt like she could melt into the sidewalk- she couldn't tell if she liked the feeling or not. _

_ “You’re crumpling your paper.” _

_ “What? O-oh.” She released her death grip, smoothed the edges. She looked down at the woman's face- _

_ Lao ripped the paper out of her hands. A wave of emotion hit her- anger, sadness, loneliness, anger, confusion, curiosity, seething anger. “Why the hell are you carrying around a picture of my wife!?” _

_ “What? She’s your… No...” It suddenly made sense. Cross felt like she was going to vomit as last night’s dream rushed into her head. _

_ For an instant, Lao thought of the dream- the same dream, but from a different perspective. Then; realization, invasion, betrayal, violation, icy  _ **_hate_ ** _. “Leave.” _

_ “Lao, I’m-” _

_ “ _ **_I SAID GO!_ ** _ ”  _

_ Cross ran. She felt his hate as it buried into her- If she felt this way about someone, she’d kill them on the spot. No, she’d make them suffer. That he’d told her to run instead… baffled her. _

_ Cross ran to her room and locked the door. She had no idea how long she sat there, alone, doing her best to ignore the thunderhead in her mind. It could have been minutes later, or hours, that she heard his voice. _

_ “Cross.” _

_ She jumped- his voice was right next to her! How did he get past the door without her noticing- _

_ “I’m not there, Cross.” _

_ She swallowed. She felt him in her mind, he wasn’t lying. _

_ “I’m sorry. I... overreacted.” _

_ “No, you didn’t! If I was in your place, I would have wanted to kill you too!” _

_ “Kill!? I didn’t want to kill you!” _

_ “What? Then why did you tell me to run?” _

_ “I didn’t want to look at you- but I didn’t want to kill you!” A pause. “You... were afraid for your life.” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realize I’d scared you that badly. I’m really sorry, Cross.” The anger was gone, now. In it’s place was guilt, and… _

_ “Cross, will you… come here?” _

_ “Your room?” No, she realized. His mind. _

_ Cross slipped into her Room, and looked around. Lao wasn’t here. She walked through the arch, approached his door. She touched the knob, paused. Yes, he was sure. She walked in. _

_ The walls were pale yellow. They were covered in taped pictures, the same kind that covered his bedroom’s ceiling. The ceiling was covered in plastic stars- they glow in the dark, he said. The room was cluttered- toys and clothes and bed sheets, a bed and a crib. Pillows and chairs and stacks of paper and crayons- and everything, absolutely  _ **_everything_ ** _ , was covered in flowers. The floor was invisible, covered in inches of fallen blue petals. The smell was sweet, but so horribly strong it made her gag.  _

_ She fell to her knees, felt herself sink into the azure mass. The petals that were visible were freshly fallen, but down here she could tell the ones on the bottom were old and rotting and stank of decay. The floor was wet and sticky, grabbed her clothes and skin and  _ **_pulled_ ** _. She was sinking, the freezing, moist slime creeping up her legs, her waist- _

_ Lao grabbed her hand. It was strong, and he was strong, and she felt weak. She didn’t know how it happened, but her face was buried in his chest and they were tangled in each other's arms. “This is… awful.” _

_ “This is me,” he said. “Does it scare you?” _

_ “Yes,” she whimpered. She realized what she’d said, tried to backtrack; “No, I’m not really-” _

_ “It’s okay,” whispered his mouth. His heart added; “I’m scared too.” _

_ They stayed like that, pressed together, for how long neither could say. Her skin was feverishly hot, his was clammy. His cold hands ran over her arms, cooling her. He smelled of something she couldn’t recognise- “The Earth after the rain,” he answered silently. The Earth- this smell felt the same as her name… Right.  _

_ He felt chilled, unable to produce his own heat, dead. Touching her was like seeing the sunrise- her hands massaged his frozen skin, made his blood flow, his heart beat again. She was alive- no, a source of life. _

* * *

 

_ She stood before him, naked, warm brown skin covered in steaming blood. It was as if she was life itself, flowing into the ground, nourishing all that stood upon it.  _

_ Her liquid hair poured around her, became a sea, a burning ocean of blood that drowned those who did not pay tribute to the Mother Goddess. And she was terrible, and she was beautiful. _

_ He was bare, a statue of stone, a relic of a kingdom long past. His white marble skin seeped a black horror- it ran down his chest, dripped from his fingertips, covered his eyes and sealed his mouth. And he was silent, and he was unreachable. And he was all she’d ever wanted. _

_ She was floating, lost in the sea, she was burning- _

_ He was sinking, trapped in the tar, he was frozen- _

_ She was lost- _

_ He was alone- _

_ Blood poured down her throat- _

_ Tar filled his lungs- _

_ She was drowning- _

_ He was drowning- _

**_They Were Drowning-_ **

_ It was chance, that their outstretched fingers brushed. It was luck, that they took each other’s hand. _

_ They held tight, and pulled, and her head broke the surface of the wild waves, and he too was above ground, living but not alive. _

_ She held him. Her bloodstained hands were wet, and she washed the tar from his eyes. She rinsed the darkness from his mouth, cleaned his lungs, his nose and his ears. But he was still. He was clean, but he did not breathe. His eyes were open, but he did not see. _

_ She felt fevered and sick, her skin cracked like desert sod and blood boiling in her veins.  _

_ He was cool, and when she touched him, she felt refreshed, soothed. He was Old and he was the history of a world she never knew. She wanted him to tell her his secrets, teach her of the Old World and Feelings and how Man and Woman came together. But he wouldn’t speak. _

_ “Why?” She asked sadly. _

_ Because she was cradling a corpse. That man had died long ago. _

_ But dead men don’t speak, so she held on, and nursed her rotting treasure. _

* * *

 

_ Lao woke up before dawn. He hadn’t even intended to sleep, (he rarely did), but he’d been speaking to Cross and she’d drifted off, dragging him with her. Doug was in the adjacent bed, snoring loudly. Lao groped for the clock, found his comm. 2:13 A.M. He raised an eyebrow- the last time he’d slept a solid ten hours was… God, probably back on the Whale. (He’d slept a lot, those first few weeks.) _

_ Lao closed his eyes. That dream… He recalled fire, and blood, and tar, and… holding hands? Looking out at the sunset over the ocean? Laying on the beach in a beautiful woman’s arms? He frowned. The first night in months his dream was neither horrifying nor wet, and he couldn’t remember it. Typical. _

_ He checked Doug one last time, and satisfied that he was asleep, pulled a nondescript earpiece from the ventilation shaft below his mattress. It looked the same as any earpiece, but this one in particular was Ganglion tech- it was tuned in to two dozen bugs planted throughout BLADE HQ. It was too early for any useful info, but just listening to the late-night gossip was mind-numbing, and sometimes that was nice. _

_ Half an hour later, one of his bugs beeped. He scowled. That was only supposed to alert if one of the bigwigs started an unscheduled meeting. That wasn’t uncommon, but at three in the morning? Lao switched to that channel.  _

_ “Chausson.” _

_ “Nagi. What brings you here?” _

_ “I want to discuss Cross.” _

_ A pause. _

_ “How bad is it?” _

_ “Not bad at all. She’s one of our finest BLADEs- her efficiency is above nearly all other BLADEs, only beaten out in probe completion by Huang and social missions by Alanzi.” _

_ “I don’t see the problem.” _

_ “There isn’t one. I want to lessen her restrictions.” _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “When we find the Lifehold Core, I want her to get her body back.” _

_ “Absolutely not.”  Lao was shocked- he’d only been half listening before, but that got his attention. _

_ “Elma’s rehabilitation is going smoothly. She reports that Cross is effective, obedient, and kind. I believe-” _

_ “Effective is the key word there. Dawn Cross is “An irredeemable serial killer with terrifying combat ability.” Those are your words, Nagi. You were the one who insisted on these restrictions- you didn’t even want her on board.” _

_ “I take it back. She’s shown no signs of homicidal tendencies, and has nothing but glowing reports from her fellow BLADEs. She’s rehabilitated.” _

_ “I’m sure the families of the 26 people she killed on Earth will be glad to hear that.” _

_ “Chausson-” _

_ “And even if she does well in her mim, how can you predict how she’ll act in her real body? Erasing memory is much easier on a computer than a human body. How kind and obedient do you think she'll be if she remembers that you trapped her in a burning building and killed her father in front of her? I suppose you’ll tell her that he killed over eighty men and she’ll understand. Maybe she’ll even congratulate you! It’s not like she held him as he died and screamed “Daddy! Daddy!” over and ov-” _

_ “You’ve made your point.” Nagi sounded pained. “Even so, her baby deserves a chance at life.” _

_ Lao’s breath hitched. Her… baby?  What ? _

_ “She lost her baby a week after her bioscan.” _

_ “Yes, she miscarried on Earth- after watching her father die, breaking her leg, suffering third-degree burns, being locked in a prison cell for three weeks, and being questioned by the FBI twice. Both of which were after her bioscan, and the second of which was the night she lost the baby. I firmly believe she has a good chance of carrying the child to term here on Mira.” _

_ Lao’s head was spinning. Cross was… pregnant? A serial killer? And Nagi knew? Admittedly, he wasn’t fond of Project Exodus’ management (and that was the understatement of the millennium), but even he couldn’t have predicted…  **This** . Whatever  **This** was! _

_ “The answer is no, Nagi. I’m sorry, but we’ll stick to the plan. Once we find the Lifehold Core, we’ll deactivate her mim and wipe her data.” _

_ “Will you listen to yourself? That’s murder!”  _

_ “That’s  your plan, Nagi, and this conversation is over.” _

_ “Chausson!”  _

_ Lao heard the door open and close, followed by Nagi’s quiet swearing. He switched off the microphone- he’d heard enough for tonight. _

_ He reached back in his mind, felt her gentle, sleeping breath. She was having one of her Red dreams.  _

_ None of this mattered, in the end. If they won, they’d kill (no, not kill, turn off) Cross and delete every trace of her existence. If he won, this cruel mockery of life would end. This was important in one way only- Cross was kind, innocent, passionate but soft-spoken. She was nothing like her human counterpart. _

_ This meant she wasn’t human. This meant none of them were. _

_ He’d had his doubts when he’d felt her purity, her emotion. How could someone love, and not have a soul? Maybe he was wrong, he’d thought. Maybe she was real. Maybe  they were real. _

_ He  had made a mistake. It wasn’t that she had a soul- it was that he didn’t either. She seemed human to him, because she was as human as he was. And he wasn’t human. _

_ He rolled onto his back and smiled. This revelation brought with it a sense of peace.  He didn’t have a soul . His- no, Lao’s, the real one’s- soul was with Charmaine and Chenshi. They didn’t miss him, didn’t feel sad, didn’t watch him make mistake after mistake. They weren’t apart at all. They never had been.  _

_ He went back to sleep with thoughts of death- of holding his girls close as the world ended, unafraid, together always. Lao smiled, and he slept. _

* * *

 

_ “Go! Now, hurry!” _

_ “No! I won’t leave you!”  _

_ Fire crackled above their heads, the metal walls glowing red. “Gods, listen to me for once in your life! That man is coming, and he will kill you-” Dawn started to protest, but he raised his voice- “He WILL kill you- you couldn’t fight him and win even if you  were in fighting condition. He has numbers  and  terrain on his side. Your only chance to escape is if I hold him here and draw his troops.” _

_ “But you’ll die!” _

_ “And I’ll do everything I can to take him with me. He’ll never let you live in peace so long as he’s alive. This is the way it has to be.” He looked at her, gray eyes reflecting the fire and long black hair smoking at the tips. “I love you. Never forget that.” _

_ “So we meet again, Blade.” He turned, faced the man on the stairs.  _

_ “Kentaro Nagi. I warned you last we met that you wouldn’t survive our next encounter- or has that scar I gave you stopped smarting?” _

_ He wasn’t looking at her- she knew once he said his goodbyes, he never looked back. She ran. _

_ The fire nipped at her heels, her hair. She turned, wanted one last look, as his shoulder erupted in an explosion of gore. _

_ It splashed on her face, down her cheeks, into her mouth, the metallic taste almost sweet. She’d craved the taste, once. Now it made her sick. _

_ She knew it was a mistake, running back to him. He’d given his life to save her, and she threw that away without a second thought. She never did listen to him, up to the end.  _

_ A second sweep of Nagi’s blade, and his throat was severed to the spine. He fell bonelessly- Dawn caught him. “Daddy! Daddy, no!  Daddy! ” _

_ Nagi raised his sword to Dawn’s throat. “Are you ready to die?” _

_ Dawn raised her head, her flickering eyes the color of the sun. “You killed my father, so now you’ll kill my son too?” _

_ “Your-” Nagi wavered. “God almighty, you’re pregnant.” _

_ Her smile was feral. “That’s right. You’re going to kill an innocent child, Nagi. Go ahead, I’m ready. Are you?” _

_ Nagi grit his teeth. “Does the name Lao Huang mean anything to you?” _

_ “Can’t say it does.” _

_ “He’s a crew member on the White Whale. He came in last month for his bioscan, and on the way home, ran off the road and drowned after being knocked unconscious by the impact. I met his wife at the funeral- she’s expecting their second child. She was going to tell him at dinner that night.” _

_ “That’s tragic.” _

_ “You cut his brakes.” _

_ Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I remember him! That cute little Chinese man! I’m bad with names, but I remember all of my kills. His wife and daughter didn’t make the cut, if I remember correctly?” She locked eyes with him, smiled like a demon. “You sure do kill a lot of children, Nagi.” _

_ There were a thousand things he wanted to say; (how she’d found the passenger list was among them), but the floor above them chose that moment to collapse. _

_ A flaming steel beam landed on her leg, trapping her. Her hair and clothes caught fire, and she screamed- Nagi couldn’t bare it. He pushed the beam off her leg and picked her up, flames be damned, and ran for the exit. _

* * *

 

Cross laid back on the ground- felt herself sink into the mud, the rain splatter on her face. She opened her mouth, felt the water splash onto her tongue. The light sprinkling had turned into a full-blown storm some time ago, but she felt no need to retreat inside. She was trying to summon up  a memory- of being submerged, of tasting life itself, of being unable to breathe, but mostly, of peace. Cross wrapped her hands around her stomach- that was part of the memory too, being held down. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but it was his last true moments- what he became after wasn’t him anymore. 

That thing had not died happily- the basic instinct to survive combined with Luxaar’s fear and hatred had turned it feral. Lao had talked to them, through a mouth that was not his, but he wasn’t really conscious. He was in an incredible amount of physical pain, and Cross had heard them in his last moments- thousands, maybe millions of animals with the minds of newborns- some aggressive, some fearful, all panicking, all pressing down on his mind. As soon as she realized what was happening, she’d slammed up the strongest mental barrier she could manage, but for a few seconds, she was in the same confused, injured state Lao was. 

The same few vital seconds she could have saved him in, had she not hesitated.

The wind and rain was wild and loud, like the chimera's mind had been, and she could almost hear him;

_ (“Charmaine! Chenshi! I love you!”) _

“I love you,” she whispered. Those words had made him happy, once.

_ (She panted, the locked room dark. He was across the building, but in  a similar state- sweaty, flushed, and exhausted. The first time he’d tried this was awkward; his pleasure had come through to her, and she couldn't completely block it out even with his help. _

_ “What are you doing?” She moaned. _

_ “...Something I don’t want you watching!”  _

_ “What… oh! Oh. Um.”  _

_ He’d decided to take a cold shower instead, and she couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. The feeling, even second hand, was so different- so much stronger-  from her dreams. She wanted to feel that again, but… She couldn’t just ask him to do that for her benefit! _

_ The next time, he gave her a warning first- he’d try to block her out, so she wouldn’t have to get involved. _

_ She felt… dissatisfied. _

_ Why? _

_ Cross felt blood rush to her cheeks. Maybe she could… join in instead? _

_ That surprised him, but he agreed. The knowledge of “how” came through to her. _

_ And now she was locked in her room, sweaty and tired and happier than she had been in weeks. She loved this- and she loved him for showing her.  _ **_She loved him._ **

_ She hadn’t realized what she was thinking until it was too late- he’d heard her. “I’m sorry!” she sent. _

_ “You don’t have to be sorry. But…" a pause. "You do realize I don’t feel the same, right?” _

_ “Yes. I know, I’m sorry, I know you’d never…!” She bit her lip, eyes burning. _

_ “Stop that.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I told you not to apologize. If anything, I should be.” He hesitated. “The way you feel… It’s the best feeling I have. I love it when you think about me- it makes me feel like…” He stopped. “ But I know it’s selfish of me to say that.” _

_ She smiled as his feelings came through to her, and she felt warmth spread through her chest. She sent him a feeling of invitation, and she felt him in her mind, subtlety lost. He drank her love like a man dying of thirst- he felt nothing but her. “I love you,” she said. _

_ “I love you too,” he responded. It was a reflection of herself that said it, but it was with his voice, and she glowed with pleasure.) _

She pressed her hands against her stomach, which was suddenly tied in knots. That night had been wonderful- a beautiful charade, but still false. He’d felt horrible in the morning. He’d gone much farther than he’d intended- in his mind, he’d betrayed Charmaine. “Traitor” was the word that echoed through his mind that day- she’d blocked him out to give him some privacy, but…

That was the mistake that sealed his fate.

It was an idiotic mistake, in hindsight. She knew he’d been keeping things from her- the blank patches of space in his Room attested to that. She knew he came into her mind much more often than he let her into his, and sometimes he poked around like he was looking for something, but always got defensive when she searched too deeply into his mind. 

She was happy to give him his space. He was thankful for that, gave her a small smile and a quiet “Thank you,” though he found her kindness somewhat shocking. (And another word, one that he always associated with her-  _ Naive. _ Now, Cross thought “stupid” was a better choice of words.)

She hadn't suspected a thing.

Not that day when he’d blocked her out completely, when his mind was churning and his anxiety and guilt made him sick.

Not when Team Belisarda was wiped out. Her only thoughts then were for his safety.

Not when the piece of the Lifehold turned out to be a Ganglion ambush.

Not until Elma spelled it out for her.

She’d denied it even then, but her mind knew it was true. 

He was in bad shape- there had been some damage to his mim’s head, and his thoughts weren’t making much sense. For five days, she waited. On the sixth, she  _ had  _ to get answers;

_ (The Maintenance Center was closed for the evening, when she made her move. She’d entered half an hour earlier, and compared to her missions in Calduros, keeping out of sight of the workers was a cakewalk. _

_ He’d been moved out of the capsule chamber, onto a proper bed. His physical damage had finished being repaired, but he hadn’t been released yet. Cross entered his room quietly. He was sleeping. _

_ She reached back into her mind, felt his, and entered. It was a park, wide open with dogs and children running around. Lao was sitting on a blanket with Charmaine. He was watching one child in particular, a young girl of eight or so. Cross saw her face- joyful gray eyes framed by dark red hair. She could see Lao in her- red hair seemed to be all she got from her mother. _

_ Cross opened her eyes, back in the dark room. She hated to wake him, but she needed her answers- and she knew it was better she questioned him than Elma.  _

_ She touched his arm. “Lao.” _

_ He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Hm?” _

_ “I’m sorry, but I… need to ask you something.” Her heart was racing, but he was calm. _

_ He sat up, took her hand gently. “What is it?” _

_ Something was off. “Are you okay?” _

_ “What kind of question is that?” He laughed. “Of course.” _

_ She knew something was wrong- she reached into him. _

_ He was still in the park, looking at his wife. _

_ She cursed internally. That must have been why he hadn’t been released yet. She was sick and tired of being second to Charmaine- being mistaken for her  _ **_again_ ** _ bit like acid. _

_ “Are you okay? You look worried,” Lao interrupted. _

_ “Huh? O-oh, I’m fine.”  _

_ He took her other hand, pulled, and then next thing she knew, she was laying on the bed next to him, separated only by a sheet. _

_ He nuzzled his face into her red-brown hair, and whispered “I love you.” _

_ The first time this had happened, those words had made her heart race. Now, they made her mouth bitter. She’d be getting no answers tonight. “I love you too,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. “But I need to go.” _

_ He tensed, pulled her close to his chest. “Don’t.” _

_ “Lao, I really need to-” _

_ “Please!” He begged, “Please, don’t leave yet. I know this isn't real, but… I just want to hold you a little longer.” _

_ That was a surprise. She felt conflicted- she was still pretending to be his wife, but if he knew she wasn’t really her, was that so bad? _

_ “Okay, but just a little longer,” she conceded. “If they catch me here I’ll be in huge trouble.” _

_ “You… came to visit me? This isn’t just a dream?” _

_ Her throat tightened. Well, she’d come this far; “I came to visit you, yeah.” _

_ “From where?” _

_ “A world a long way from where you are.” _

_ “Was it difficult?” _

_ “Well, I did have to sneak past some guards...” _

_ “I’m sorry it was trouble. I’m sorry.” He pulled her tighter, buried his face into her neck. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault- I promised I’d give you-us- a second chance. I'm sorry I broke my promise. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how much I loved you when I had the chance. I’m- I’m sorry..!” His voice broke, and she felt tears on her throat.  _

_ “Let go,” she whispered. _

_ “Why?”  _

_ “Just do it.” He let go, and for a second she considered leaving, but only a second. She rolled over and wrapped her arms around him, one under his head and one over his torso, and held him.  _

_ They’d had dreams, and that one night in Noctilum, but this was the first time they’d really touched. His body was slim, but his arms were strong. She never wanted to leave, didn’t have the heart to tell him she had to go again.  _

_ She didn’t have to. Less than an hour later, he let go. “Thank you,” he said. “You can go now, I… I’ll be fine.” _

_ She felt empty as she left. She paused at the door. “I’ll hold you to that. You hold yourself together… for me. Please.” _

_ “I will,” he responded with conviction.) _

Cross felt herself shiver. Her own soaking arms made a poor substitute for his embrace, and her body temperature was dropping. She sat up and headed for the industrial district- she wasn’t ready to go back to the barracks just yet.

Walking through the Commercial District was slightly embarrassing- the bright lights of the stores illuminated her wet, muddy attire. She left black footprints in her wake on the pavement, only to be washed away seconds later. By the time she reached her destination her feet were clean, but she was soaked.

She saw Frye through the window- drunk and happy. She smiled. She’d have to join him again soon. But not tonight.

The cashier visibly cringed when she walked in, dripping on the floor. “You have shoes?”

“Yeah?”

“Then wear them.”

It took her a few seconds to realize; “I think I dropped them.”

“I can still serve you on the patio. You’ll be out of the rain, at least. Sorry, but rules are rules.”

“It’s okay.” She hadn’t wanted to run into Frye anyway.

Cross sat at one of the outdoor tables, under an umbrella. She felt sorry for her waiter- just because she was crazy enough to enjoy taking a walk in a thunderstorm didn’t mean she didn’t realize other people liked staying dry. She looked in the window- Frye was laughing, and… was that Doug?

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Everyone else was moving on. Lin had said goodbye, she’d known that, but Doug still was raw, the last time they’d talked. 

But he’d gone to the funeral. He was healing.

And her wounds were just... festering.

Cross felt her hands curl into fists. How could they do that? Her other half had been ripped away- was she just supposed to be okay with being alone? How could Doug of all people fill in the gaping hole he’d left?  **It was wrong!** When he’d left, Doug was the one he’d hurt the worst!

_ (“How could you!? How could you betray humanity!? How could you hurt Lin and Doug like that!? You asshole! You’re the worst! I HATE YOU!” Her last thought was accompanied by a wordless scream. Her fists were seeping from repeatedly hitting the wall, and she wasn’t stopping even though it made her feel no better. _

_ He couldn’t even hear her, probably. The wall he’d built between them was incredibly strong- Two days of screaming and scratching and pounding  and she hadn’t made even a slight dent. She had no idea what he was thinking, and while she wanted him to know how badly he’d hurt everyone, she doubted he was any more aware of her thoughts than vice versa. Maybe he was so out of his mind that he didn’t even realize he’d upset them. She wouldn’t doubt it. _

_ Elma had taken Lin away from her- Cross knew she was upsetting her, but couldn't calm herself. It made her feel terrible, making Lin cry. “No, actually, YOU made Lin cry! You see that!? How can you live with yourself!?” Cross sent him memories of Lin’s crying face, but was met only with the expected silence. _

_ Hours of death threats and guilt trips and angry yelling later, she was exhausted. She wasn’t even mad anymore. She just wanted him to talk to her. Maybe he had his reasons. Maybe they were even good ones? Maybe this was a trick to infiltrate the Ganglion, or some horrible prank, or- Something! Anything! She had no idea, because he wouldn’t! Fucking! Talk to her! _

_ Cross sank into the sofa. She rubbed her stomach- she hadn't eaten in… she wasn’t sure exactly how long, but quite a while.  _

_ She looked up, saw the door to the hallway. It had been half a lifetime ago, that she’d seen him standing in that doorway, blushing red with a towel around his waist. He’d offered her coffee. He drank his black- She never understood how anyone could enjoy something so bitter. _

_ She rose up and walked to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned, steaming black sludge in hand. She inhaled the rich aroma- these were real Earth coffee beans, not the similar beans found in Noctilum. She’d been the one to bring the first crop of those back- she’d brought them through a tropical storm alongside her poisoned partner. _

_ She raised the cup to her lips. The dark liquid was not quite hot enough to burn, but the flavor was overpowering. It was disgusting, but she held it in her mouth before swallowing, letting the experience sink in. _

_ “Gross.” _

_ He agreed.  _

_ Then why did he drink it? _

_ (“I can’t believe this! False labor- of all the stupid things! We wasted a whole night in the hospital, and nothing!” _

_ He laughed-her flushed face was incredible. “You’re due in a week, I’m sure it won’t be much longer.” _

_ “Lao.” Her face was dead serious.  _

_ He felt a spark of worry- she almost never called him by name. “What is it?” _

_ “You have no idea how much I want a cup of coffee right now.” He burst out laughing. “I’m serious! It’s been nine months! Nine! And it’s not like it’ll be over in a week- I can’t have any coffee until after I’m done breastfeeding,  _ **_apparently_ ** _!” The last word was directed at him. _

_ “It’s-” _

_ “Bad for the baby, yes, yes, I know. You’ve told me a million times.” Her pouting face morphed into a teasing smile, and Lao felt a chill. “Hey, Handsome? You wanna do me a favor?” _

_ “Anything.” _

_ “Go make me a pot of coffee. Wait! I just want to smell it. I promise.” Her smile was impossible to refuse. _

_ Lao sighed. “You’re the worst caffeine addict I’ve ever met,” he joked as he walked towards the kitchen. _

_ She spent a good five minutes sniffing the pot. He watched her bend over the counter- listened to the small sounds she made. After a particularly loud moan, he joked; “Are you leaving me for the coffee machine?” _

_ “This is the most sexual gratification I’ve gotten in months. Maybe.” _

_ “That’s not my fault!” _

_ “Yeah, it kind of is!” She turned to face him, laughing. _

_ “Ah, so it’s a blooming romance, then? I don’t have to worry about the baby not being mine?” _

_ “Nope! She’s your beautiful redheaded daughter.” _

_ “I thought we weren't going to find out? Also, the chances of the baby having your hair color are… slim.” _

_ “I didn’t- but it’s a girl, and she has red hair. I just know.” _

_ He got up from the table and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re wrong, but I love you anyway.” And then he kissed her. _

_ “Mmm. How about you drink a cup of coffee and do that again?” _

_ He smiled. “You’re obsessed.” _

_ He poured himself a cup, and reached for the fridge-  _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ “...Making it drinkable?” _

_ “No you’re not. Sit down.” He sat across from her, pouting. “You’re going to drink that coffee that way  _ **_I_ ** _ drink  _ **_my_ ** _ coffee, and you’re going to enjoy it for me. Every. Last. Drop.” _

_ And he did so, complete with exaggerated moans and dramatic pauses. She smiled- he didn’t think he was imagining sweat on her brow. “Was that good for you?” _

_ “That was awful.”) _

_ Cross smiled. She went back to the kitchen, then came back with a refilled cup- sweetened with milk and honey. She sat and drank it, and enjoyed it more than she probably should have. He was there with her, the sweet tincture on his lips. She felt him moan, and his voice reassured her, made her feel whole. _

_ They didn’t talk, but the wall was gone, and that was enough.) _

Cross’ nails were biting into her skin.That was the most private thing he’d ever shown her, and he’d done so of his own free will.

Her sweet, creamy coffee arrived, and she enjoyed it now as much as before. His silence was filled with her moans this time- no one could hear above the wind. As she sat down her cup, she looked back through the window. Doug was smiling, his arm around Frye’s shoulder.

Maybe someday somebody would sit and drink coffee with sugar, no cream, and think of her. She’d like that. But that day would never come if she didn’t create those bonds first. 

She left the diner with new conviction. It was time to say goodbye.

* * *

 

The cathedral was dark and quiet, illuminated only by the street lights through stained-glass windows. Cross’ breath caught as she entered- simply closing the door sounded harsh and out of place here. She felt out of place as well. She had no idea what human religion she’d followed on Earth, but Fraisie’s antics with the Ma-non had soured her on the concept.

Rows of benches led to a podium, to the right of which was a large grey plaque. Any traces of Lao’s funeral had been moved away by now.

This had seemed like a good idea not long ago, but now that she was here.... What should she do? She had no idea what a human funeral even entailed… crying? That wasn’t likely. Speeches? Lin had said Doug had given a moving one, but there was no one here to listen. Or… maybe she was overthinking this. She wasn’t here to give Lao a second funeral, she was here to say goodbye.

Cross took a deep breath. “Lao. I… I’m here to say goodbye. Um… I don’t know what to say. I never do- did. 

“I’ve always been terrible with words. But you- you always understood me, even when I said nothing. Sometimes we’d just sit in silence and be together, and I wouldn’t have to talk, and you didn’t have to keep secrets or lie or hide anything. And… You really appreciated that. You wanted me to know that, and I never told you that I knew, but I do. I wish I’d told you how much that meant to me. How much  _ you _ meant to me.

“You were… something unreachable. You were so real- you were the most human person I’d ever met. You still are. You were messy and harsh and tired, but also fragile and your heart..! Well, you told me once that my love made you feel alive. But what I felt- it was nothing. You loved so much stronger than I will ever be capable of. You were human in a way I’ll never be.”

Cross thought back to those final moments at the end, a whirl of pain and confusion and regret. He’d told her something then, but she hadn't understood- until now.

“You thought your heart was lost. You wanted me to find it for you. That was your last request. I’ve been looking, since that day, and… I think I know where it is now.

“You never lost it. It was injured, but not gone. That pain you felt was love too, even though it hurt so badly it made you want to die. It changed form, became ugly and twisted, but it was still love. And it scared me, I didn’t want to admit it, but it was still you. That thing I killed… was you. And those last words I heard when I pulled the trigger, ‘Thank you,’ they were also yours.”

She was shaking. She’d felt so guilty that she’d fooled herself into thinking that nothing mattered after he’d fallen in. He wasn’t Lao anymore, because if he was, then she’d killed Lao. No, Lao was already dead. She’d just killed a monster. And because it was a monster, those words were meaningless.

That was a lie. She thought back, pulled those words to the surface.

_ (“Don’t let it end like this! Come and destroy me!”  _

_ Cross’ skell had been wrecked, her team scattered across the chamber. The monster turned on her, its fist slamming into her chest. She landed across the room, winded. Her right arm was useless, but her left was mostly unharmed. Her assault rifle had been knocked out of her hands, but was nearby. She reached for it- _

_ A slimy grey hand pinned her down. She could barely breathe for the weight, and the stench of plasma was unbearable. She was panicking, in full survival mode. Her hand groped for her gun, grabbed it, pressed it to the creature’s forehead- hesitated. _

_ Two pairs of wild orange eyes met in a state of panic, and for an instant, were calm.  _

_ Understanding then, and sadness. An apology. _

_ She didn’t understand. Refusal. _

_ One last time, he reached out of his wounded body, touched her, caressed her. They were together, and here in her Room, he couldn’t feel any pain. He whispered something in her ear, (his whiskers were rough on her cheek, his breath soft on her skin,) made one final request, curled his fist over her fingers and pulled the trigger.) _

Cross had closed her eyes- she could remember it now. His blood had covered her face, run into her eyes, nose, and mouth. It was bitter and acidic, not sweet at all. Freshly fallen blood was supposed to be warm, but his was cold slime. She reached up, almost expecting her hand to come away wet.

It did.

She let out a startled grunt- then felt herself break. No more quiet tears, she was sobbing and screaming now. She stepped forward, leaned on the plaque for support. She opened her eyes, reading names more with her fingers than with blurry vision. It was a monument to the BLADEs that had died reclaiming the Lifehold Core. Written in bold at the top was the word “HEROES.”

His name wasn’t on it.

She double, triple checked. He was the only real hero that day. He’d killed Luxaar. He’d taken down the Chimera too, not her. It was so petty- she’d heard them talking in the streets, calling him “The Traitor.” They refused to say his name. And apparently, they’d done this, too.

She felt like she’d been lit on fire, burning bright enough to consume this miserable planet, bright enough for him to see, to illuminate his soul as she turned to ash.

She smashed it. Stone chunks scattered across the floor, all the way to the entrance. That symbol of pettiness was fragile, in the end. The truth wasn’t. The truth would endure.

Her blood was boiling, and it wasn’t enough. She went to the podium, threw the books and pens before knocking it over, too. Why wouldn’t they forgive him? Why wouldn’t they let him rest peacefully?

“Why?”

The benches were next. She ripped the back off of the first, used it to smash the next. Why did he need forgiveness? Why had he left? Why was she never enough?

“Why!?”

She grabbed anything near her- broke it if it was light, threw it if it was not. The windows clattered down in a cascade of color, shattering and nicking her skin in a thousand places.

“You knew, you bastard! You knew what it was like to lose the one person you love most! You felt that pain- you knew better than anyone! Why did you hurt me like that?! Why did you hate me!?

“Why did you leave me!?

“ **_WHY!?!_ ** ”

She fell to her knees. She was surrounded by rubble- it was under her, biting into her legs. She didn’t care. She knew, on some level, she’d made a mistake- but it didn’t register. She had no reason to move. She’d come to him for answers once, and left dissatisfied. She wouldn’t leave this time. She’d sit here and bleed until he told her everything- poured himself out to her as well. No more secrets. No more lies. She’d wait.

She heard crunching behind her. The small voice warned her that she was in trouble. She didn’t move.

“You dropped these.”

Slowly, she raised her head. A tall man stood there, holding a pair of shiny brown boots. “...Professor B?”

“I dried them with my ******o-matic. They were looking pretty sad.”

“...Oh?”

“You were looking pretty sad too, so I just watched for a while. I mistook sad for violently angry, apparently. You’re a hard one to read.”

“...Sorry.”

“Oh, kid. I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. I don’t give a $#!&#(^% about this building, but you’re not going to be popular in the morning.”

She knew she should be embarrassed, but she just felt...numb. She continued staring blankly.

“Why don’t you come to my lab? I’ll dry your clothes too.” He held out his hand, and she took it. He looked down at her legs and shook his head. “Your mim needs repair, and your plasma's a bit murky. Could be a bacterial infection. I’ll check that out for you, you don’t want to get that getting out of control.” He continued muttering about her mim all the way back to his lab. She had trouble following his speech on a good day, but the low rumble was relaxing, and by the time she was in dry, clean clothes with a cup of warm coffee in her hands, her mind was beginning to clear.

She’d never actually been inside his lab before. It was cluttered with half-built weapons and unidentifiable machinery, and smelled a bit like her and Lin’s bedroom.

“I’d say excuse the mess, but that sort of thing doesn't seem to bother you,” He’d said. The quip had made her feel just a bit… perhaps not better, but different.

“That should be cool enough to drink now.”

She was still looking at the table. “Do you have milk? Maybe honey?”

“Do you like your coffee like that? Seems a bit sweet for you. Not that I’m judging.”

“It is a little sweet.”

“Well, how about I make you a cup the way you like? I don’t want to get a reputation for giving out bad coffee.”

“...A little sugar, then?”

He smiled, and the coffee was delicious. She’d forgotten how rich the flavor could be.

He sat across from her, watching her drink her brew. “Humor an old man. Tell me about the $(^~% that went and broke your heart. If you want to.”

“I… want to see him again.”

“That sounds… like it could be trouble, if he ended it.” She quirked an eyebrow. “You did trash a building.”

“No, it’s not like that. He… died. I went to the cathedral to tell him what I never had when he was alive… Things kind of spiraled out of control.”

“Why don’t you tell him that when he’s alive?”

The odd phrasing threw her, but she ignored it. She was talking to Professor B, after all.“I was a coward. I hid my feelings from him until he was too far gone to ever love me back.” She grabbed the cup for support. “I want to tell him what I said tonight. I want to see him again. But that’ll never happen.”

“Why? I thought you knew better than to use language like that.”

“Huh? He’s… he’s dead. I said that already. The Lifehold Core’s been destroyed, we can’t bring him back.”

He rubbed his eyes, sighed. “Cross, I’m going to be blunt. I don’t think you’re considering all the options here.”

Her eyes began to water again. “What options? He’s gone, completely, he didn’t even leave a body behind!”

“We have a time machine, Cross.”

* * *

 

The morning was gray, damp. Miserable. The warmth of Lao’s cheap coffee through the paper cup in his hand did nothing to dispel the chill. The seat at his table had been dew struck, but the diner had been somewhat busy with the breakfast crowd and the noise had been grating.

Lao apathetically watched a few cars pass by the diner. The roads were connected enough now that one could drive to any of the districts, though some were still quite roundabout. NLA, as it was called now, looked a great deal better than it had one month ago, right after the crash- but it still needed a great deal of work. 

Lao rose from his seat and threw away his cup. Today would be busy- his new team needed a lot of training before going out in the field. That kid, Shingo, still hadn’t learned to hold his gun correctly- and he still had more promise than the other two. Saiden was a good friend, but no fighter, and Mondo had shown far more interest in maintaining his weapons than wielding them. If he could get somebody with experience in melee combat to help train his team, he’d have a much easier time, but who could he rope into training rookies? Doug was too smart to get caught in that trap.... Lao continued walking along the edge of the Industrial District, lost in thought. It was beginning to rain.

The drizzle was weighing down his hair, and his bangs were bothering his eyes. He reached up to wipe them away-

And was suddenly hit by a speeding car.

Lao rolled over the roof and landed painfully on the pavement. He was dazed, could barely make out the sounds around him.

“Oh my God! You hit someone!” A car door and loud footsteps- “I told you to hit the brakes!”

“He’s a mim, it’s fine.”

He sat up, with some difficulty. The yelling woman was coming towards him.

“I’m so sorry! Are you-?”

The woman stopped short. He met her orange eyes for a moment- she looked somehow familiar…

She slammed into his chest an instant later. Her arms held him tightly, almost painfully. She was crying- “I’m so sorry!” she repeated.

“Look, I-I’m fine, there’s no need to cry,” he grunted out. This was incredibly uncomfortable.

She only cried harder then (and held him tighter, much to his discomfort.) She was muttering something he couldn’t make out, but he caught his name. “Do I know you?”

She looked up at him, released him and wiped her eyes. She had dark skin and brown hair highlighted in red, with a crimson X painted over her face. She looked incredibly familiar- he felt like he was looking at an old friend. Somebody he hadn’t seen for a long time- that he’d thought he’d never see again. She smiled tearfully.

“No, we’ve never met before.”

That didn’t seem right- but at the same time, he knew she wasn’t lying. She stood and offered him her hand, and he took it. Her hand was small and delicate, but warm. Holding it felt… right.

She pulled him to his feet and for a moment, they stood hand in hand. She looked over his shoulder and smiled. He felt an impulse to turn.

The clouds had parted and left behind them a rainbow, illuminated by the rising sun. The sky was on fire, with droplets of light returning to them. The morning rain washed away the bitter remains of a broken promise.

He felt himself smile.

“The sunrise is beautiful.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, a mistake- Lao's line in the final battle was not "I love you," as I had originally thought, but rather "Where are you?" Fixing this would require changing a rather large chunk of text, so I decided to leave it in.  
> Second of all- the "crossed wires."  
> I had thought when writing this that I'd left enough hints for readers to correctly guess the cause, but feedback has told me the opposite. As I explained on FFN:  
> Lao was the biological father of her baby!. The "He didn't have much money" hint was that he'd donated sperm when he was much younger to earn some quick cash.  
> The fact that he resembles Cross' father also ties in a bit, though this wasn't mentioned in the main fic. Dawn's victims all closely resembled her father. She was drawn to them, due to her having somewhat of an obsession with her father (Or more specifically, her father's bloodline) which ultimately led to her killing several men and women that resembled him. She also was drawn to men who looked like him when making a selection of men to be her baby's father. The fact that one of her victims, Lao, was also her baby's father was something that nobody knew- not even Nagi.
> 
> And now, about Navarre- no, wait, a bit of backstory first.  
> I'm the one odd person who really enjoys reading self insert fics. I've always wanted to write one- not as a serious project, just for fun- particularly for the Fire Emblem fandom, who are unusually welcoming to SE fics, at least on FFN. Said fic was supposed to end with an Einherjar of Navarre being summoned on Earth, and eventually becoming Dawn Cross' father.  
> How was I to expect an actual Fire Emblem game involving Navarre coming to Earth would happen? Not to mention Heroes!  
> Due to this, I'd like to say this fic being a sequel to an unwritten self insert has been reconnected to being the sequel to Tokyo Mirages Sessions #FE (Or a least an AU of said game).  
> Another development that has happened since the original writing of this- the Cross Kids AU over on Tumblr. I've written a three-part story expanding on Red's baby as a sort of pseudo-sequel to Drowning- I'll be posting it here a bit later as "The Next Generation - The Curse (And Other Short Stories)."  
> As for whether or not I'll expand on this 'verse more? Well, people who follow my Tumblr do know that I've done a post-Drowning design for Red & that I was unable to do anything for the one-year anniversary of XCX's release, and I'd like to do a project for the one year anniversary of me beating the game for the first time (& the one year anniversary of Drowning as well) in March. Tune in around then~


End file.
